


Unexpected Side Effects

by adirtysilver



Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, M/M, No Civilian Kills | Not Even Once, Wings, the plan is for there to eventually be fluff, will divert near the end
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-31 17:43:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20119057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adirtysilver/pseuds/adirtysilver
Summary: Jonathan confronts the Disaster, using the Tears of Angels. The antidote ends up doing more than what was expected, and Jonathan has to learn to live with his new additions.





	Unexpected Side Effects

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for starting WIP #3. This was supposed to be quickly written, and I did manage to write this in two weeks which is quicker than my recent pace. Want to try to get to writing more regularly. And I have started the next chapter for Rivers of Blood, even if it's not super far yet.
> 
> Basically I was like, why not have a wing fic? There's no explanation for the wings. They just are there to exist.

A quick, sharp pinprick. He could feel the antidote running through his veins. He didn't know what he was expecting. More than this. He didn't really feel any different. He only hoped that it would work. It was too late to turn back now.

As Jonathan fought first Harriet and then the Red Queen, he occasionally thought he felt some weird sensation ripple through him, originating from his back. It almost threw him off balance a few times and ended up causing him to receive a few extra wounds.

In the end, he was victorious despite the distracting sensations. He stood and watched as his Maker talked with his mother, feeling worn out as his wounds gradually healed. After some reassurances from her son, the Red Queen disappeared, sinking through the sewer grates.

"So it's over then, young Ekon?" Old Bridget called down to him from one of the tunnels that led into the room. "You have put an end to this terrible menace?"

Jonathan was about to respond when he was overcome by a wave of dizziness, his vision blurring. He fell to his hands and knees, losing all sense of up or down. There was a buzzing in his veins followed by a sudden sharp pain between his shoulder blades. He gripped the sewer grating beneath his fingers, squeezing it and feeling it bend under the immense pressure, but the pain only grew worse, more defined.

He let out a gasp, his body canting forward, almost collapsing to be flat on the ground as he felt twin hard, wickedly sharp objects pierce the skin of his back. Blood flowed from the newly made wounds, soaking into his shirt and jacket. He screamed in pain as the torment continued, something inside of him moving, bursting forth and tearing through skin and muscle. It seemed to last forever before it finally stilled.

Jonathan remained as he was, panting. His whole body was shaking from the strain of what it had just endured. He didn't know how much time passed before he returned to awareness of himself. The first thing he noticed was a weight on his back, concentrated on the area the pain had come from. Pushing himself back up into a standing position, he almost fell onto his back as the new weight seemed to be attached to him. He flailed his arms out to try to maintain his balance and felt an alien sensation, a new group of muscles moving reactively to aid in his attempt.

Jonathan snapped his head around to see what was happening behind him and nearly lost his balance in shock. A massive, black-feathered wing filled up most of his vision. Its movements were synced with the movements of his new muscles. He whipped his head around to find an identical wing on his other side.

"What in God's name-?" Jonathan breathed, fighting back panic. The wings responded in kind, twitching, the motion jostling him.

"I must admit I am at a loss, young Ekon," Old Bridget spoke up, drawing his attention. She looked equally as surprised by what she had just witnessed. "Never in all of my years have I seen or heard of anything like this before. I wish I could help you in some way after all you have done for us, but unfortunately this phenomenon is completely unknown to me."

Even as Bridget still referred to him as an Ekon, Jonathan ran his tongue over his teeth and found his fangs were still there. Curling his fingers in, his nails lengthened and sharpened into claws like usual. Whatever this transformation was, it seemed his Ekon characteristics remained unchanged.

"I suppose this is something I will have to learn to live with as well," Jonathan said, spreading his wings out to their full span, testing out the feel of consciously moving them. Luckily it seemed to be intuitive for him. With a sigh, he folded them up against his back. Now wasn't the time to fully test them out.

"But more importantly, what are you doing here?" he asked. "I'm glad to see you are alright. After seeing all that carnage, I feared the worst had happened."

Old Bridget easily accepted the change in conversation, telling of how she had been on the surface and so escaped the massacre and thanking Jonathan for all that he had done. She also satisfied his curiosity, admitting that she had been the wife of Lord Redgrave and had been turned by him. Though he felt there was much to talk about, Jonathan had something more important to do.

Old Bridget wished him luck as he bid his hasty goodbye. For now, he had no time to investigate his new additions or grow accustomed to them. The wings would remain a mystery.

***

Jonathan was currently going through the pain-staking task of putting on a new shirt, one of a few he'd had altered to accommodate his wings. He was going to leave his room for the first time in a few days. Since returning from successfully convincing Elisabeth not to end herself, he had tried to keep himself sequestered here. While it seemed like his vampire glamour was also keeping people from noticing the wings, he still didn't have much practice in moving around with them. He feared that he could end up knocking them into something or someone, and at that point who knew what people would notice.

Properly dressed, Jonathan headed for the door. He kept his wings as drawn in towards his body as possible. Even just navigating his way through doors required some conscious effort on his part to avoid getting his wings jammed in the doorframes.

As he passed by Edgar's office, the administrator came out to meet him. It was unsurprising considering both his newly gained enhanced senses and the fact that there was a bond between them that Jonathan didn't fully understand how to control yet.

"Ah, going for some fresh air, Jonathan?" Edgar asked, attempting to cast surreptitious glances at Jonathan's wings. Upon first seeing them, there had been a brief moment where his covetousness had shown plain on his face. All his promises of no longer experimenting, and yet Jonathan knew his desire to perform myriad experiments to investigate the feathery appendages. Whether due to fear or actual respect, so far Edgar hadn't bothered trying to persuade Jonathan to let him so much as touch them.

"Yes, I fear I might have spent too long cooped up in my room. I believe it's past time I've fed," Jonathan replied.

"Make sure you take care. You wouldn't want to attract the attention of a more unscrupulous sort who'd try to capture and study you, now would you?"

A polite smile that threatened to expand into a grin at this suggestion coming from him of all people appeared on Jonathan's face. "That is something I certainly wish to avoid. Any studying shall be done by myself."

"Ah, and have you made any progress? In either of your endeavors?" Edgar asked, moving his hands energetically as his eyes lit up.

Jonathan sighed and shook his head. "I have not made any breakthroughs yet, although most of my time is devoted to finding a cure for Lady Ashbury. My affliction so far seems harmless and nothing more than an inconvenience. It would be rather selfish of me to divert too much of my time towards something so trivial."

At the mention of Elisabeth's illness, Edgar's shoulders slumped slightly, and the jovial expression on his face dampened to a more neutral one. "Quite the altruistic man. Truly a fine example of what one should strive to be." There was an awkward clearing of his throat before he continued, "Well, I've taken enough of your time. Enjoy your fresh air. And stop by my office when you return, if you feel so inclined. We haven't really sat down and talked since you've returned."

"Yes, I will keep your invitation in mind," Jonathan replied, purposely leaving it noncommittal.

Descending the stairs, Jonathan could feel eyes on him as people turned to stare. He had to keep reassuring himself that none of them could see his wings. They were staring since this was only the second time he'd emerged from his room since returning from Scotland. Some of the patients and staff called out greetings to him as he made his way towards the entrance. He could hardly just ignore them, so he made brief visits with everyone who was eager to have a word with him.

Jonathan was approaching a patient's bed when his wing brushed up against a cool, smooth surface. The wet feel of condensation startled him. It was unexpected and he was still unused to the wings being an extension of himself. He flinched, just barely avoiding sweeping the glass of water his wing was touching onto the floor, earning a few strange looks. Luckily no one said anything, and he continued on as normal, smoothing things over with his normal politeness.

After such a close call, it wasn't until he left the hospital grounds that he allowed himself to relax. He couldn't completely let his guard down, however. He wasn't sure what would happen if he ran into a Priwen patrol, but he knew it wouldn't be anything good. For now, the streets were practically empty due to how late it was and he saw no sign of the militant vigilantes.

The squeaking of rats caught his attention, and he turned down an alleyway to find three of them skittering about. Jonathan hunched down to make a grab for one, but was thrown off balance by his wings, missing it by a few inches and almost landing on his face. He straightened up with a bit of grumbling before making a second attempt. This time he managed to grab hold of one.

Biting into it, Jonathan felt as though he emptied it immediately. It was the first time he had fed in almost a week, the scant amount of blood doing nothing more than teasing his thirst. While he tracked his next victim, he noticed the sound of a human heartbeat nearby. Tensing up, he focused his attention on them until he determined they were going away from and not towards him.

No longer concerned about being interrupted, Jonathan continued on to drain the other two rats dry. Their blood was no tastier than usual, but it did the job and helped him feel at least slightly refreshed. He could now move on to his next objective for the night. Jonathan made sure to remove any evidence of his blood-drinking before setting off in the direction of the Docks.

The Docks was the area he was most concerned about. He didn't intend to go too far into the district, just checking in on whoever he found on its periphery. He wasn't ready to have Sean see him like this. When he had first looked into a mirror and seen himself with his jet black wings, it had brought certain things to mind. Would his appearance be a reminder of the cruel way Jonathan had persuaded Sean to do something the Sad Saint had believed at the time was wrong?

Maybe he was a coward, but Jonathan didn't wish to face him yet. So, acutely aware of his own cowardice, he entered the district to check in on its residents for the first time in a few weeks all while giving the Night Shelter a wide berth.

***

A skal's shriek pierced the night air, catching Jonathan's attention. He was heading back to the hospital, but this was the first skal he had sensed tonight. Jonathan diverted off his path to go find the source. Skals were slightly more palatable and substantial than rats, and Jonathan felt his fangs lowering in anticipation.

Entering the alleyway, he found a lone skal that was thankfully not in the middle of tearing into a victim. It turned at his approach, taking only a second to register the fresh meal walking towards it before springing towards him.

Jonathan dodged out of the way with ease before realizing he'd made a mistake. It was now in his blind spot. He sensed the skal somewhere behind him, attempting to swipe at him, and tried to sidestep it. A sharp line of pain caused him to wince as the skal raked its claws along a wing. It was just a shallow cut, he had managed to avoid anything worse, but it made him feel woefully out of practice. Injured while taking on a single skal.

Jonathan spun around and threw a blood spear to pierce its stomach, stunning it. He grabbed it before it had a chance to recover and bit into its neck. His eyes sank shut as he gulped down the blood. It had been too long since he'd had such a substantial meal. The pain from his injured wing was also disappearing, providing an answer to a question he hadn't tested out yet.

When there was no more left to drink, Jonathan let the corpse drop with a sigh before freezing, eyes wide open. There was a group of people near him and getting closer, a group of three coming from in front and a group of four from behind. Glancing around, he didn't see an easy escape route, the roofs being too high for a jump.

Three members of the Guard of Priwen rounded the corner and came into view as Jonathan was still trying to come up with a plan. The one in the lead gestured towards Jonathan, saying, "See, what'd I tell you? Look at it."

A chaplain to the right of him frowned as he took in the sight. "It seems there is always a new abomination to discover stalking these streets."

Jonathan raised his arms slowly, trying to show he meant no harm even as he realized his lips were still stained with skal blood. "I don't wish to attack you. Please, just let me go and I'll be on my way." He carefully started turning, not wanting to make any sudden moves to set them off, just wanting to be able to see both groups at once. His words fell on deaf ears as the chaplain strode forward, wielding his cross.

Jonathan took a step back as he was blinded and disoriented, holding his hands up to try to shield himself from the merciless light. Before he could string together coherent thoughts again, a heavy weight fell upon his body, nearly causing him to fall to his knees. The cross's effects began to lessen, and Jonathan realized that a fishing net had been thrown on him, trapping him and his wings.  
Having his wings pinned against him by an outside force was filling him with an unexpected amount of anxiety, and he tried to stretch them out. As they struggled against the thick netting, they just got more and more entangled, and Jonathan began to grow short of breath, panicking. His wings thrashed futilely, causing him to stagger about, gasping. He couldn't think straight, overcome by claustrophobia.

He tried to shadow jump away. One of his wings felt like it was nearly wrenched out of its socket as it was yanked back, preventing his escape. It was followed by another, harder yank.

A crack of pain on the back of his head, more disorientation. He had been pulled to the ground. He squirmed around until he was on his stomach so at least his wings were no longer trapped beneath him.

He was unable to keep his wings from fluttering and causing new waves of panic to crash through him, but he still tried to do something to get him out of this nightmarish situation. Casting his eyes about, they landed on the guard who held a rope in his hands. Jonathan concentrated as much as he could, summoning a pool of shadows by the guard's feet. He was too slow, however. The guard jumped away in time, never loosening his grip on the rope.

"Ha, still got some fight left in it," one of the guards called out, getting some laughs in response.

"Watch out!" another shouted.

The sound of broken glass, then green fumes spread around Jonathan. His already shortened breaths grew even more choked, broken up by violent coughing. His insides burned as he breathed in the gas. There was no escaping from it.

One of the guards that surrounded him whispered, "Er, isn't that that doctor McCullum said not to kill?"

"That fucking leech doctor?" another of the men replied, spitting on the ground. "Never heard that bloody leech get described as having God-damned wings. Have you?"

"No, but-"

"Worrying about a fucking leech..." the man muttered. "Well, you can stop your pointless fretting. We're bringing it to McCullum. He'll decide what to do with it, whatever it is."

There was the sound of footsteps approaching Jonathan, stopping right by his head. He just laid there, coughing, wings jerking violently.

One quick crack, a split second of intense pain, then everything went black.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so this fic kinda needs people to see someone with black wings and think fallen angel/demon. I tried looking into whether this would make sense for someone in 1918 London, and couldn't figure out if that's a reasonable thing to expect. Either way, I kind of need it for this story so it's creative liberties if it is unrealistic.


End file.
